Prompt 2.8.1 D. Coffee this bad could only have been served in.../TBS

Coffee this bad could only have been served in a hospital, he was sure of it.   Despite that fact he found himself taking yet another sip before returning his attention to the chart that sat on the desk in front of him. How much longer was Romano going to keep this power struggle with Weaver up?  It wasn't like either of them were going to change how they did things and in the meantime it seemed the only ones suffering were the patients because of the short staffing, and him, because of having to take on her shifts in addition to his own. The thought was not one that was a welcome one,  and without thinking he downed another swallow of the coffee from the cup sitting beside the chart he was working on. He'd had worse, and what were his alternatives? Sure, he could make the trip across the street to Doc Magoos, or he could make a fresh pot, but, both would mean getting up, and the truth was he was far too tired to put that much effort into it.  It wasn't like the coffee was going to kill him. 

He took another sip, only to swipe his tongue across his teeth as he finished, it might however strip the enamel off his teeth if he drank too many cups.  The thought lingered only as long as it took for him to release a breath and force his attention back onto the chart in front of him. Funny how bad coffee and hospitals seemed to go hand in hand no matter where you were, it had to be one of the world's great conspiracies. The thought prompted a slight rumble of suppressed laughter before it was washed away with another swallow of the dark brew. He was losing it, too many shifts in too few days, it was time for Weaver and Romano to make peace before he went completely insane.

 

Week 7.3. If we break up, it will probably be because.../Couples Therapy

If we break up, it will probably be because...

It would be easy to say it was all my fault, or it was all her fault, but, the truth is, we both share blame in how we have reached the place we are now at. We made promises to each other before we married, promises we told ourselves we would keep, promises we've both failed at.

I know that my being gone put a strain on things. I know that I had told her  that we would raise Joe together and by going back to Croatia when I did, and leaving her alone I broke that promise. In my defense, I didn't realize how sick my father really was or I would have insisted Abby and Joe go with me, even if it meant delaying my trip until Joe's passport had arrived. I never meant to stay as long as I did, but, once I was there, I couldn't abandon my father, not with the state his health was in. I'm sorry if Abby felt I had deserted her, or that my choosing my father over her made her less important, I never meant it to be like that.

On Abby's side, I couldn't have known my being gone would cause her to start drinking again, but, worse then that, I couldn't know that she would betray our vows by sleeping with her boss. Yes, I know she was drunk and she says she doesn't remember what happened that night, I've been drunk and I know what can happen. I don't want my marriage to fail, I won't give up my son, so, I'm trying to come to terms with this betrayal, and I hope she can find a way to look past the mistakes I've made. I take my wedding vows very seriously,  I've lost one family, I don't want to lose another, no, I won't lose another.

Prompt 224 Mad/Theatrical Muse

I don't know that anyone ever wants to admit that they are capable of violence of any kind, let alone being able to take a life, but, the truth is, when pushed far enough, it can happen.  For me it happened not when I thought it would, but, at a time when I least expected it.  You see, I know I would willingly have resorted to any means necessary, regardless of my own fate, if it would have guaranteed the deaths of those who had taken my family from me. What I didn't know, was that I was capable of taking a life with my bare hands with little or no warning for far less.

It came out of no where, or should I say he did, a mugger who attacked without knowing that his act would be one of his last.  I was struck first, a lead pipe to the back of my head sent me to the ground, when I regained consciousness all I saw was him struggling with Abby and I knew I had to save her.  I guess I went mad, or maybe I thought to protect her in the way I hadn't been able to protect my own family.  I grabbed him, roughly pulling him off of her before I began repeatedly slamming his head into the pavement.  I lost track of how many times I picked him up, how many times he hit the concrete.  I don't even remember hearing Abby's cries for me to stop. All I could see was anger at what he had done, and then somehow I heard her, but too late for him.

He was barely alive when the ambulance arrived, his skull was shattered, there was nothing anyone could do, and then it was all over.  I'd killed a man, and they were worried about a gash on the back of my head, I felt sick.  The police said my actions were justified, and no charges would be filed for the man's death.  He'd gotten what he deserved others would say, but, his blood was on my hands. I had to live with my actions, I had to live with my rage, and I had to wonder when the madness might surface again.

Prompt 6.2 Young love/Couples Therapy

When Abby and I broke up the first time we were together, she said I was married to a ghost, and in some ways I suppose she was right, maybe she's still right, even after all these years.

Danijela and I met when I was 18 and she was barely 16.  For me, it was love at first sight, though I have to confess that it took me better then a week to work up the courage to even talk to her. As we discovered our shared interests, what I had known from the start, soon became clear to her as well, and we knew that marriage was the inevitable next step for us. Because of her age, we waited two years to marry, and because she was very religious, we were both virgins when we consummated our vows on our wedding night. I'm not sure what I expected married life to be like, but, I know that I will always treasure that handful of years I had with Danijela for what they gave to me.  In the five years we shared as man and wife, I felt as if I had discovered a piece of myself that I had not until that time known I was missing. We were two halves of the same coin and if we thought we were happy when it was just the two of us, we became ecstatic when we welcomed first our daughter, Jasna, and then three years later our son, Marko. 

They always say that good things never last, and I wish I could say I had proof that it wasn't true, but, the fact is, that God must have decided that we were far too happy and in a moment of spite he stole everything that gave me joy away from me.  On that winter's day in 1991, when that mortar struck our apartment, our son died instantly, only I escaped unharmed as I'd been out to the market.  Arriving home, I found my baby boy buried in the rubble of what had been our happy home. I found my wife and daughter barely clinging to life, and over the long hours that followed I watched both of them die as well. Far more died on that winter day in 1991 then just my family though, for I'd begged God it intercede, I screamed until my throat was raw for someone, anyone to come to our aid, and no one came.  I lost my family that day, but, I also lost my faith, I lost my reason for living, and for far too many years I was sure I would never find any of them again.

 

Prompt 15: Mun Prompt on Celibacy/Muse Erotica

If your muse had to be celibate, completely, for a year, would you still be able to write them and not have them go completely mad or silent?

Absolutely, Luka is one of those muses who has such a complex background as well as current storyline that I can pull from many places without having to focus on the sexual aspects of any of his relationships. In my mind, there was a considerable period of time between when his first wife, Danijela, died, and when he entered into his next relationship which involved any kind of sexual intimacy. While it was never openly stated, I always felt that Carol was the first woman he allowed himself to have any kind of feelings for following Danijela's death, and even then, there was never anything sexual between them. It was only when he began seeing Abby almost a year later that we saw any evidence of him giving into any kind of sexual urges and it was she who initiated the first act. To put this into better perspective and to show just how little importance this seemed to have in his life, this happened some 9 years after the death of his wife and children. This is something that was made even more dramatic when two years later Luka went through a PTSD break and fell into a downward spiral that resulted in him abusing alcohol and engaging in sex with numerous partners, including prostitutes. With the exception of this short period of "living fast" Luka actually has only had 3 relationships in the 16 since he lost his family, and one of those resulted in his second marriage and a new son.

Prompt 223: "I swear I didn't put those..."/TM

"I swear I didn't put those who came in after Curtis Ames before him because I saw them as somehow more important than he was, though to him it may have seemed that way. Part of being an Attending is being able to see past the individual, and to see only the symptoms that brought them into the ER. I would love to have the luxury of being able to give unlimited time to each patient, to be able to be at their bedside within seconds of any call they make, but, the reality is that's impossible.

On most shifts I'm responsible for overseeing the treatment of upwards to 40 or more patients, as well as the Residents, Med Students, and Nursing Staff who are looking after them. In this instance, I recommended we admit Curtis Ames for observation and treatment, he refused, as a secondary course of action he was monitored in the ER where he suffered his stroke. At that time he was advised on a course of treatment that might have reversed the damage the stroke had done, he refused that as well. Do I regret what happened to him? Of course I do, but, I don't see what we could have done to prevent what happened."

As he finished Luka turned toward the jury for the first time since he had begun speaking. It was next to impossible to know how they would interpret his testimony, but, there was nothing he could do about it now. No, now, it was the Prosecution's turn to ask their questions.

Prompt 2.8.3 I: Scar/TBS

"Luka, how did you get this scar?" The question had been an innocent one, asked as he and Abby had shared the intimacy of post coital drowsiness.  She'd been curled alongside him at the time, trailing her fingers along his skin as if she were trying to memorize every detail with her touch.  When she had reached the dimpled imperfection in his thigh she had paused, and he knew he would never forget the furrowing of her brow as she rose up on her arm so she could see with her eyes what her fingers had first discovered.

"It looks like a bullet wound." Even as she identified it she'd dared him to prove her wrong.

"It is...don't." He'd pushed her hand away then, and something in his tone had warned her against asking more about it. She hadn't heeded the warning though, and despite his words she had persisted.

"How did it happen? Luka, please, tell me." She lowered herself back to rest on his chest, thinking to make it easier for him to talk if he were not forced to face her directly.

"Did it happen during the war? The question came even more quietly, as if she somehow thought that alone might make it easier for him to explain.

"Yes." Luka's voice held a finality to it as he offered the confirmation, and she found herself wondering if he wouldn't have fled the bed if it weren't for the fact that her weight still held him there.

"Will you tell me about it?" She wasn't sure why she didn't let it go, though his sigh clearly revealed his patience was almost at it's end.

"There's nothing to tell, Abby, I was fleeing Vukovar, I was shot.  Now let it go." Sliding out from under her he made his way to the bathroom without saying anything more, as the door clicked closed behind him she realized too late that she'd pushed him too hard.  One day she would learn, one day.